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Chubby Honey: Act ONE
Mandi Lin wanted to pull out someone’s teeth, Miles Wickam’s teeth to be precise. And then maybe strangle his perfectly trim twenty-four inch waist. A guy with such a tiny waist did not deserve to live. Well okay, now Mandi wasn’t about to become a homicidal maniac any time soon, even if a pair of shiny sharp scissors danced before her eyes at the moment. Well they didn’t really dance. If they did, then Mandi would also be a psychopath or a very creative individual. The latter seemed a bit unlikely since she could hardly decorate a stick figure. Colors didn’t work for her, clothes didn’t fit on her, and nothing seemed to go well for her at the moment. Garrghagagawatchacha!
Miles continued to pull at her hair as he sang some popstar’s newest hit. One about a cheating boyfriend and a car being blown apart. Mandi’s head wanted to explode-- her scalp felt like Miles was tweezing strands of her hair from her head.
“I would so blow my boyfriend’s car apart if he cheats on me. But that would be so unlikely,” Miles smacked his gum. “I’m just too perfect to be dumped. Besides Daniel doesn’t have a car. He’s so cheap. I mean bla bla bla.”
Mandi wanted to roll her eyes but then Miles would see through the mirror in front of her, the incredibly unflattering mirror she wanted to punch and destroy with her destructive heels of steel. With her wet hair plastered against her face, her head looked incredibly flat and her cheeks looked incredibly puffy.
Not good, Mandi thought. Especially since she had to look awesome in a few hours for Sara’s wedding. Happy cousins Sara, about to marry a stinking rich podiatrist. Mandi could see it now. In a few years, Sara would have little brats running around her Fifth Avenue apartment and James would come home every night with wads of cash. A life of an NYC princess. Quite natural, Mandi would say, for a girl who had looks, brains, and loads of luck. Funny how they shared similar DNA and yet strangers could never tell they were cousins, Mandi and Sara.
Maybe if I lose a few pounds, Mandi thought.
A hundred pounds or so that was.
Mandi sighed. She had tried everything. Exercising, this diet, that diet, even liver-killing fat-burning pills. Yoga, walking crazy dogs, water diets… Mandi could make millions writing books about losing weight, gaining muscle, and cooking low-fat meals. She was certain her regimes would work for others. For her sluggish metabolism and lack of luck-- her flat feet would collapse if she performed strenuous exercise and she would rather grow a third boob than give up chocolate-- nothing worked. Nothing. Not hypnotism, not this, not that. Not even Marx Jenson’s face. Marx, hottest guy alive, could make a girl turn into a poodle. Too bad her infatuation for the bad boy could not melt away her fat. Mandi doubted even if she lost a hundred pounds Marx would fall for her. He already had a great gal.
Wendy Lin.
Mandi’s cousin Wendy Lin. Seventeen years old, high school senior, tall, pretty, smart, and cute. Envy of girls, hot candy to boys.
Sara’s baby sister.
Oh god. Mandi coughed when Miles twirled around her to fix her hair. He whistled and moaned and clapped his hands. “You’ll be the belle of the ball!” he exclaimed as he pulled at Mandi’s hair to straighten it.
“I don’t understand why you have so un-Asian hair though. You looked just like a poodle when you came in here!” Miles wrinkled his forehead and pouted. “But no matter. My magic touch will fix it all up. For six months your hair will be straight. Just make sure you don’t put clips in it or pull it into a ponytail. Ok hun?”
“Sure.”
Whatever to get this hair straight. A hundred bucks. Four hours of intensive hair chemicals and straightening. Japanese Hair straightening done by a blond hair blue eyed Caucasian guy. Hmm, I wonder how smart this is. Mandi shrugged to herself. Miles had worked with her hair since she was a babe. He always talked about himself and never once did he say anything about her weight.
People could be nice to mention how she should lose a few pounds but it wasn’t as if she didn’t already know this as a fact. To Mandi, when someone talked about her weight, it felt like how people would come up to a person with a huge gigantic zit on her face and say, hey you have a huge gigantic zit on your face. Well thank you very much for being a talking mirror and reminding me I don’t look perfect. Perfection-- tall, beautiful, thin, big eyes, long shiny hair-- everything superficial society and the media adored was everything un-Mandi Lin.
Perhaps there was a mixed joy in being a character so unlovable, Mandi thought. At least she never had to worry about men almost snapping their heads to follow the sight of a hot little “chick” walking down the street. Never have to worry about someone trying to molest her. Never have to worry about crazy stalker fans.
Never have to worry about having secret admirers. A date for prom. A crush on Valentine’s. Getting a boyfriend. Finding Prince Charming. Marrying a cool and hunky podiatrist.
Yea.
Oh well.
There’s always liposuction, Mandi thought. And plastic surgery.
Mandi looked at her face and her disappearing brown eyes. Miles suddenly told her to smile. “You’re beautiful,” he said out of the blue, as if he could read minds and tell when a person’s heart was about to break.
“Okay.” Mandi bit her bottom lips and smiled. Her teeth were pretty and white. Her dimples were cute. When she smiled, she looked like a chipmunk. Chipmunks are cute.
“Last part,” Miles said as he pulled the last section of her hair into artificial straightness.
“Lovely!”
Mandi stared at her reflection. Flat hair fell to frame her face. Shiny flat hair.
Her hair looked great.
But her double chin didn’t disappear. Her swollen face didn’t shrink. Her eyes didn’t miraculously enlarge.
“Really Miles?”
Tears rolled down Mandi’s cheeks. Miles smiled and thought of the tears to be ones of complete joy. He clapped, feeling a sense of accomplishment in straightening Mandi’s fuzzy almost-fro.
Mandi smiled but would have felt the same way if her head was bald. She dreaded the hours as they continued to tick away. She dreaded having to put on the bridesmaid dress she almost destroyed during fitting. She dreaded standing next to Wendy and Sara and seeing Marx at the wedding. She dreaded having to stand next to Ting Lee, the groom‘s brother.
Side by side with Ting, Mandi formed a mountain. They could tip scales standing together. Ting liked puppies and played the piano like magic as a child. Ting had an old soul, trapped in a three hundred pound body. Burgers and French fries completed his days and his eyes were like dots on his face. Not very attractive and yet Mandi always felt he was a male version of her. Perhaps that was why she despised him and resented the fact he was her partner. Sara was a sadist. A perfect sadist. If Mandi were a cannibal, she’d definitely eat her two beautiful Asian Barbee doll cousins.
And then crap them right out. Would serve them right for making her feel like crap all the time!
“So what Mandi? Who cares Mandi? You have personality. You have talent. And you have fan boys too.” Mandi winked to herself and laughed. Technically, she didn’t have fan boys. Yuki did.
Yuki was a sensation online, a beautiful exchange student from Tokyo with a honeyed voice, a perfect body, and the cutest pair of eyes that could belong to a human.
Yuki wasn’t real.
She was a figment of Mandi’s imagination and the creation of Photoshopping genius, Rexi Luther (no relations to Superman whatsoever), aka Mandi’s one and only bestest bestest friend. BBF, take that BFF, IDK, OMGBBQ.
One Sunday afternoon, one incredibly boring Sunday afternoon, Rexi and Mandi had a great spell of EUREKA, we’ve got it. Their conversation went something like this:
“You know what would be great?” Rexi asked.
“What?”
“To be completely unoriginal and steal plotlines from popular Korean films.” Rexi’s blue eyes twinkled.
“Go on.”
“You can sing.”
“That’s like the only thing I can do.” Mandi blinked. Her mounds of fat must really nourish her vocal cords. She could belt out tunes and sing sparrows off their perches. Beat that Snow White, Ariel, and other singing sexy princesses!
“I write songs.” Rexi rubbed her hairless chin.
“Yes I know.”
“We can be big you know.”
“How?”
“You’ll sing the songs I write. I’ll catapult you to stardom.”
“How?” Mandi narrowed her eyes and they became slits. “You’ll have to blind people first.”
Rexi shook her head. “People aren’t as superficial as you think. Obe-- I mean overweight people are popular and famous in the media.”
“Yea? Then why do already famous overweight celebrities try so hard to become thinner?”
“I don’t know. But you’ve given me an idea. There’s a 3-D model I’ve been working on these few months. She’s hot. She’s the perfect girl! My perfect girl.” Rexi ran her fingers through her spiky brown hair and almost drooled. “If she were real, I’d so… reow. Hot just hot. Believe me. Looks a bit like Wendy but even hotter.”
“Okay…”
“You don’t see it Man-Man? My visions for us? Think of the Hoogle ad revenues. We’ll make a site. Make a celebrity out of my model with the help of your voice. She’ll be a hit online…”
And on and on Rexi went until Mandi got the point.
One: Photoshop the 3-D model to make her look like a real person.
Two: Name her. Name they came up with: Yuki.
Three: Make her sing. Make Mandi sing. Record the songs. Make it look like Yuki sings.
Four: Gain fan boys. Make money online. Deceive the whole world.
Five: Sit back and laugh at the losers who fall for Yuki.
And for three months, their plan had worked and continued to work. Together, they had made thousands of dollars already. Yuki was a sensation online. Online magazines had already lined up to do interviews with Yuki. Fan boys were already photoshopping nude pictures of Yuki! Disturbing but great news-- it meant she was a hit!
Too bad Yuki wasn’t real. Sooner or later, everyone would find out. But for now, Mandi and Rexi couldn’t think too far ahead. Mandi continued to sing the songs Rexi continued to write. If anything, they could always enlist the help of Wendy and have her pose as Yuki. But then Wendy didn’t know how to sing. Then Mandi could help Wendy if she lip synched. Then it would be too much like that movie-- 200 pound beauty. But really, what was still original these days? Even Larry Hotter’s author had been accused of plagiarism… woah… no way.
Great. Great. Great! Mandi couldn’t worry about the whole Yuki scandal-mess now. She had a wedding to attend! Dad was honking the car downstairs already. The man really could destroy a person’s nerves. He could wake up, get ready, and be out of the house for work in less than ten minutes every morning. For Sara’s wedding, he took a shower, fixed his hair, put on a suit, and started the car in less than half an hour.
From Mandi’s bedroom window, Mandi screamed and almost chucked her heels at her dad. “Give me ten more minutes!” Gaaargh! With great haste, Mandi applied makeup, put on her heels, and flew down the stairs. The dress could suffocate her but she couldn’t care. She ran into the car and slammed the door and couldn’t hear the ripping of the back of her dress when she sat down. Her dad blasted Cantonese pop love songs by Triplets too loudly. Ever since Mom left, Dad’s female love interests were the Triplets, cute popstars from Hong Kong who looked alike but had shared no DNA.
“Ready to party?” her handsome dad shouted.
“No!” Mandi replied.
“Great! Let’s rock it!”
“You look great Mandi.” Ting’s sweaty cheeks reddened. A genuine compliment. If only this came out of Marx’s lips, Mandi thought. From Ting’s lips, it meant nothing. God I’m superficial, Mandy thought. She couldn’t help it. She had been brainwashed to do so despite being a victim of superficiality in so many ways.
“Thanks. You look… neat and tidy.” Mandi rubbed the back of her neck. “It’s kind of warm in here so don’t stand too close to me. I radiate a lot of heat.”
“Yea me too. I understand.” Ting smiled again. “So, I guess you’ll be my partner tonight? I forced myself to learn how to dance.”
“I don’t really like to dance. Especially not in these heels. I’ll pass if you don’t mind?”
“Oh. Okay.”
Silence.
Mandi spotted Wendy and Marx walking over to a table of appetizers. Mandi’s belly rumbled. Was it because of the delectable appetizers or the equally delectable Marx? As much as she hated superficiality, Mandi the hypocrite loved beautiful things. Beautiful people.
Marx looked stunning in a dark suit. His short cropped black hair was slicked back and his brown eyes sparkled from across the room. Everyone disappeared. Mandi wanted so badly to walk across and make light conversation. Charm him with her wits. Then her eyes landed on Wendy. Wendy wore the same dress Mandi wore, only fourteen sizes smaller. Gorgeous, but not ironic for a living breathing Asian Barbee doll.
“Want some punch Mandi?”
Mandi couldn’t hear Ting. Ting took her silence to mean a yes. He walked over to the punch table to pour her a cup.
He returned and walked toward Mandi. Mandi with her eyes fixated on Marx, made a sudden turn when Marx noticed her. Marx grinned and acknowledged her presence! Mandi knew her cheeks would explode into visible redness and so she had to spin. That was when she collided into Ting with his full cup of punch. Bright red punch spilled across her chest and dress. The coldness of the punch heightened every one of Mandi’s senses. She could hear voices. She could feel eyes. Worst of all, she knew Wendy and Marx had witnessed everything. Mandi’s world swirled before her. She wanted to strangle Ting.
“What the hell?” Mandi said through clenched teeth. “You… fat clumsy pig.”
Ting blinked. Regret filled Mandi the moment her words left her lips.
“I’m sorry.” Ting turned around and Mandi supposed he left the wedding. For the rest of the night, he was MIA.
Fat. Pig. Clumsy.
Obese. Overweight. Fatty. Lard. Tub. No Neck.
Mandi for a moment, had become everything she had hated. Maybe pretending to be Yuki got to her head. Maybe she had thought that if she didn’t have punch spilled all over her, she could have a chance of stealing Marx from Wendy, if only for a second, minute, or even that night.
Stupid Mandi. You’re so stupid.
I’m so sorry Ting.
Six months later:
Yuki must die. Stupid fraud bitch.
Mandi blinked as she watched the message flash from blue, red, and green in her computer screen.
I’ll kill you, you stupid fake bitch.
Eek.
Miracles don't happen in just sixth months. Mandi was not now a size zero. In fact, instead of losing pounds, she had gained a few more. Yuki however was now more popular than ever. People were complaining about not seeing her in utube music videos. Using Wendy was a replacement was still an option and Rexi had suggested it more than a thousand times over the past half a year.
"If we want to strike the millions, we will need to keep Yuki alive," Rexi had warned. They've stepped in too deeply already and their first taste of money and success was too tempting to abandon.
Something had to be done soon, Mandi knew. Anti-fans were growing in numbers. They could lose it all very soon. Mandi twirled strands of her frizzy hair with her chubby fingers. Miles' magic touch had faded two months ago and her hair was now semi-fro-ish again. Very uncoolMandi sighed. Why can't life be easy?
Because you're stupid fraud bitch, that's why. Because you're not Wendy or Sara Lin. Mandi rolled her eyes and climbed on her bed and fell to nap. This was the summer right before college and the drama had already begun. Tonight, for the first time in six months, Mandi would see Ting again. From what she had heard from Wendy, Ting had melted away his pounds and looked like a completely new person.
"Even kinda hot," Wendy had said. That remark had made Mandi's mouth feel sour. In part she was still ga ga over Marx, who in turn was still in love with Wendy. The rest of the sourness stemmed from Mandi's memories. She had called Ting a fat pig. Her weight hadn't decreased since Sara's wedding and now Ting was "kinda hot." This is going to be embarrassing, Mandi thought right before she fell asleep.